


thicker than blood

by finaljoy



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Body Horror, Friendship, Gen, Good to Evil, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements, friendship piercing the veil of darkness, jenny centric, jenny is a princess, sisterhood is very important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finaljoy/pseuds/finaljoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny became the next Horseman. It's as simple as that.</p><p>(and yet, and yet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i am more weary than wise

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be doing this? Probably not. Will I stop? Absolutely not.
> 
> BASICALLY THIS ENTIRE FIC IS ONE GREAT BIG JENNY-CENTRIC, SELF-INDULGENT, PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP ORIENTED HEAP, BUT I GENUINELY DO NOT CARE FIGHT ME SLEEPY HOLLOW CANON FIGHT ME FIGHT ME **FIGHT ME.**
> 
> Mild spoilers up to the middle of season two.

Jenny didn't get it, at first. She had always thought that family, friends, and a general moral compass were infinitely more important than power, or revenge, or whatever it was that made people go bad. To her, no matter what, good won out.

Then she had found herself bleeding out, staring at the stars. And all of that still mattered, just…not as much.

It had been a routine run. Abbie and Crane were off doing their typical insanity, while she covered them with a rifle on a nearby roof. Then a quiet sound had come from the dark, and she found herself with a hole in her back. She couldn't feel anything but the cold and the steady fear of death. And then a quiet whisper in her head—

_you are going to die_

She knew that, she knew her life was slipping out of her back and someone would find her body, and then Abbie would be left a little more alone.

_your sister is going to die_

No, no no no Abbie had to live, Jenny had  _sworn_  to herself, the moment she saw the tape of Ancitif prophesying Abbie's tragic death, she would  _make_  Abbie outlive this. Jenny would get Abbie through, even if she had to break every bone in her body to do it.

_you can save her_

Yes, she was going to save her

_you can protect her from the end_

because Abbie was her sister

_if you want_

and despite it all

_you can have that power_

Jenny loved her most in all the world

_if you just agree_

so she would do anything for her.

And then Jenny got it. And then Moloch had her soul. It was quiet, happening before she was consciously aware of what was being exchanged, but then she felt herself sit up. She still felt cold, and a little numb, but lighter. It was a nauseous lack of weight.

Jenny looked around, leaping to her feet the moment she saw the small cell of Hessians before her. She was reaching for her gun, already formulating a distraction and escape—

They saluted her, eyes averted.

"Horseman of Famine, take your staff and ride," one of them said, stepping back to several men coming forward. One man was carrying a long, wicked looking staff. It stood taller than a man, with a sturdy, cruel blade at the end. It felt like a welcome home in her hand.

* * *

She met with the other Horseman, and she felt no fear. This was a rare gift, indeed.

Death was just as imposing as before, tall and terrible with the air of just barely having acknowledged her as a creature equal to his attention. He had a head now, though, or at least Jenny could finally see the man wearing the robe of Death. Abraham van Brunt looked like a nobleman. He had all of the poise, the arrogance, the power. But he also looked  _right_ , standing in a war-torn and bloodstained uniform, like chaos simmered right under his skin.

War was a completely different matter. She had never actually seen Henry as the Horseman, only heard of the atrocities he so casually committed. The wicked, self-satisfied smirk on his face was as befitting as Death's uniform, his own sort of armor. He wore the same simple clothes, a knit sweater and bland slacks, had the same tortoise shell glasses. But the cunning, the wickedness pouring from his eyes made Jenny's stomach tighten. They were formidable, indeed.

"So," she began, casting a casual yet alert eye around the clearing (they would be just the type to do some sort of occult, frat boy hazing). "Guess I'm part of the team, now."

"Indeed. How is the newfound power suiting you?" Henry asked. She didn't like the way he smiled like he had a secret curled up in his pocket.

"Not sure, yet," she admitted, hefting the spear in her hand. The Hessians had taken her straight to the other Horsemen, 'as ordered'. "Can't really  _feel_  the evil coursing through my veins, but I've only been at it for less than an hour, so. We'll see."

Henry seemed vaguely amused at her glib attitude, while Abraham seemed content to amp up the cold condescension in his stare. Jenny had always been so  _good_  at making friends.

"When do I get my horse?" she found herself asking, the words tugged out of something she hadn't known existed. She didn't think they would require her to  _earn_  her mount, something to prove she was truly evil, but then again, she  _really_ didn't put anything past them.

"You select your steed on your own," Abraham said, his quiet tone and careful accent catching her off guard. She would have expected something rough and loud. "The horse you take is not merely an animal, but your aid in service to Lord Moloch."

Jenny gave a nod, not missing the lazy flick of the eyes Henry gave, as if scoffing at Abraham's philosophical view.

"Okay, awesome. What exactly..." she gestured around vaguely, as if she could encompass her general situation.

"Lord Moloch will come to you when he is ready. Until then, you will stand by."

"I become a Horseman, and then I'm expected to twiddle my  _thumbs_?"

"You're expected to follow  _orders_ ," Abraham snapped. Jenny shot him a look.

"Sorry if I'm hesitant to listen to the guy that tried to  _kill_  me. Remember that, shooting a shot gun point blank  _at my car_?"

"If I had wanted to kill you, you would have been  _dead_ ," Abraham spat, looking at her with all the condescension in the world. Before Jenny could sling out another snappy comeback, he continued.

"I was merely stopping you from hindering our plans. Even at that point, I had you marked out as the potential future Horseman of Famine."

"' _Stopping me from_ —' by shooting  _buck shot_ through my windshield? Gee, you really know how to wine 'em and dine 'em, don't you? And what do you mean, 'had me marked out'? What's been happening since then, have I just been pending Moloch's approval?"

"You were not quite ready," Henry explained. "We had to be certain everything was in order, and—"

"You couldn't risk me turning you away," Jenny said, rocking back on her feet. Henry's smile turned a little more appreciative.

"Lord Moloch is  _very_  persuasive, but no, it would not have been wise to leave that risk."

She chewed over her next comment, then switched tracks.

"So, where am I supposed to stay, now? I was—I can't just wander back into my old life as the Horseman of Famine." Surely the change would show in her face, hollowing her cheeks, carving out her shoulder blades as the new curse took hold of her flesh. Abbie would notice after a few days, she would become worried and search for any sort of cure once she realized it wasn't natural, the over-productive sister thing shoved into overdrive, end of the world and police work be damned. She would find out.

"Arrangements have been made," Henry said, waving a hand like a king. Hessians fabricated from the woods, silent and ready for service. "But, it would be unwise to give up your standing with the Witnesses, just yet."

Jenny reared back at the suggestion. Famine weighed how beneficial staying undercover would be, then nodded.

* * *

"Jenny, the hell are you?"

"Gee, hi to you too, sis." Her voice was calm, unruffled. How easily she hid the truth from Abbie. "Some Hessians showed up and looked like they had their hands on some serious bad news. I followed them, and things kinda got out of hand."

"So what happened? Why didn't you call? You could have—"

"Gotten myself grossly injured, yeah, I know. Anyway, turned out it was all a trick, but I got a little banged up. Hessians wrecked my phone by the way, so that's why I haven't called. I decided to lay low, draw away fire from you and Ichabod. Not sure if these guys play on grudge matches."

"The Horseman certainly does," Abbie said, more as an aside than anything. Jenny's stomach panged. "Okay, okay…are you really hurt? I mean, didn't hear of anyone being admitted to the hospital with gunshot wounds…you didn't resort to field surgery, using dental floss and whiskey, right?" Abbie laughed, trying to cover up her anxiety.

"You laugh, but do not doubt the power of dental floss."

"I would have believed you if you'd said whiskey."

" _That_  is the truth."

_Abbie I'm sorry I've been caught Moloch got me I'm the Horseman of Famine I don't know what they're planning but it is bad Abbie I'm scared._

Jenny screamed until her throat bled. But she was finding that Hell had a bit of a tighter grip on her soul than she had ever expected.

* * *

Her last hours as Jenny needed to be spent well. In all honesty, there wasn't a whole lot for her to spy on. Abbie and Ichabod didn't have elaborate plans, they were reactionary forces. Other than the Kindred running around free, they had nothing. No, those last few moments were for her and her alone.

And yet, Jenny couldn't bring herself to frolic around Sleepy Hollow with them. She would have loved to introduce Ichabod to a U-Pick orchard, or have dragged them to a theater that only played classic movies, or just go out and buy pretentious expensive coffee with them. She would have loved being able to just enjoy her time with them. But there was that little seed of decency inside of her that wouldn't stand for it, couldn't stand having such a wonderful time, only to stain it with a betrayal she wasn't sure she could have prevented. So she kept things simple. In and out of the archives, a hello and good bye and an  _I love you_  that they probably would never understand.

Ichabod was alone in the archives when Jenny showed up, staring intently at Abbie's laptop screen.

"Hey, Crane," Jenny called, making him look up. He greeted her, but his eyes were drawn back to the screen. "Whatcha got there, some new research?"

"Hm? Oh, no, nothing of interest to us. Things have been rather quiet, since we took care of the witch."

Jenny's smile was pasted on as she remembered laying on the rooftop, rifle in hand as she tracked the two of them to the cemetery. They had been going to stop a witch that had apparently been trying to raise the Whore of Babylon. Then the Hessians found Jenny and—

"So, what're you looking at, then? I hope it's not something gross while Abbie's gone. I don't feel like walking you through how to erase your history."

Ichabod managed to tear himself away from the computer long enough to give her a thoroughly unamused look.

" _No,_  Miss Mills, I am not doing anything 'gross', as you put it. I like to imagine that I have a little more self-respect than to indulge in such base—"

"What're you doing, Crane."

"I was simply exploring this website, apparently it's supposed to be an online television, however—"

" _Oh_ , YouTube. Be careful with that, it's a double edged blade."

"Yes, I'm sensing that. I began a simple enough search on mythical lore not centered in European culture, and then I find myself transfixed on videos of cats doing  _heaven_  knows what—what are you doing?"

"Recording you. I am documenting proof of your progress. You are a modern man, Ichabod Crane."

Jenny smirked as he launched into yet another tirade about something or other. When he seemed to be wearing down, she interrupted him with a question as to where Abbie was.

"Oh. Oh," he said, sounding like she had literally taken the wind out of his sails. "The Leftenant went to Starbucks for 'provisions', as she so mockingly called them. She's probably on her way back, but if you call, she would most certainly get something for you."

"Get who what now?" Abbie asked, bustling through the door with an armful of drinks and pastries. As Ichabod hurried to help her, Jenny casually pocketed her phone.

"Oh, nothing. I just popped by to see how you guys were, prove I wasn't actually missing a leg or something."

Just a soul. But they couldn't see that.

Abbie nodded, silently telling Jenny she appreciated the gesture, then caught sight of her computer screen.

"Crane…mind explaining something here?"

Jenny laughed as Ichabod began his harried explanation, and headed to the door.

"See ya later, Ichabod," she said, snagging a cinnamon bun on her way out. She touched Abbie's arm, making her sister look around.

"What, you're leaving?"

"Yep. Just checking in, remember? Anyway…stay safe, you two." Jenny gave him a smile, and hoped that they could feel all of the sincerity she had left, squeezed into that moment.

* * *

Famine needed a horse. The little bit of power Jenny had left was used to make things easy for Abbie and Ichabod. She wanted them to find out on her terms, covert work be damned.

One night, she went to a stable and looked at the horses. A stable hand came out to stop her, but a quick blow to the chest from the blunt end of her staff forced him down. She thought she heard his ribs crack.

She wandered down the stalls, taking her time. There were plenty of horses, each one shying back from her as she passed. Jenny knew from her own study that Famine rode a black horse (not to mention that the persistent whisper in her head made it very clear what kind of horse she needed to get), but that didn't keep her from admiring the other horses. Even though they pranced nervously in their stalls whenever she came near, Jenny admired each one, whether they were black or palomino.

And then, at the very end, as if it were a neat little period to her last sentence, stood  _her_  horse. It didn't move away when she came near, just watched her with a big, dark eye.

"Hello, there," she whispered, smiling at it. The horse pulled its head back, as if resigning itself to its fate.

"Hey, now, I'm not gonna make you do this," Jenny said, frowning as she reached out to stroke its neck. "Trust me, that sucks. If you'll work with me, though, if you'll be there for me…I promise I'll do everything I can for you. Please. Don't make me do this alone." Jenny grimaced at how  _pathetic_  she sounded just there, but she waited, staring into the horse's face and hoping for the best.

Then, she felt a soft huff against her skin, and the creature brushed its nose against her forehead.

Jenny smiled again, and she almost wished she wasn't quite so relieved. Signing one's soul away was terrible, no matter what it was for.

 _Wish I had remembered that a little while ago,_  she thought darkly, holding the horse's face in her hands.

Jenny took her time to finding tack and saddling up the horse. She could hear the time drifting away in her chest, filling up the place where her soul should have been, hollow  _tick tick tick_ s echoing around her insides. Just a little more to go, just enough until they were there…

She led her horse (she now knew it was a boy) out of the stable, brushing the other horses' horror and relief off her shoulders. The grounds were dark, but then headlights were flashing up from the road. Her stomach sank, even as she heard herself give a soft sigh. At least she could stop waiting.

Jenny pulled herself up into the saddle, spear held expertly at her side. It had been a while since she had ridden a horse (Three years, to be exact. She had been tracking down a skittish info broker in the Andes. The locals had told her the horse was better, and had cackled when she showed up three hours later, pissed, muddy, and with her car stuck in some mud hole on the side of the ass crack they so generously called a road), but holding the reins in one hand now felt so  _natural_ , like the information had been breathed into her bones. Almost as natural as staring down the Witnesses with a fundamental emptiness in her eyes.

She could see them through the windshield, both of them staring at her in utter shock. Abbie was stumbling out of the car, horror on her face as she tried to understand, tried to make herself believe, and yet tried to scrub the knowledge from her brain. Ichabod was only a beat behind her physically, but his eyes were miles ahead of Abbie, preparing himself for the hell Jenny could now loose. He was horrified, of course, but not devastated like her sister. He kept glancing at Abbie, as if wanting to spare her, knowing better than any person what a blow this was.

 _"Jenny_?" Abbie breathed, like she was choking on it, choking on a nightmare she hadn't even been able to concoct. "Jenny, no no no, Jenny this can't—what're you—Jenny _, please."_

She didn't say anything, didn't respond to the nauseous tone in her sister's voice, to the way she had gone weak kneed, to the way she had brace herself against the car. Jenny just held the reins a little tighter, and kicked her horse forward. She heard the little gasp in her sister's voice when she saw the staff held tight in her hand, humming with all the evil of the other Horsemen's weapons.

It was all  _so_  natural to her, like this was really what she had been made for.


	2. grow in lonely soil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is just a gross self-indulgence. Like...seriously. It's all Horsemen and their horses and I love it.

Jenny's new home was a small cabin in the woods. It apparently had been a Hessian's summer home, or at least, it had been up until the day before she had been turned. Since then, it had undergone an intensive purging of the owner's possessions. When Jenny first walked in, the place was bare, gutted of everything but basic furniture and kitchen accessories. The cabin was small, a solid rectangle that had been divided into four rooms. The front of the cabin was a long swatch that acted as the living room, with a small bedroom sectioned off in the far corner. The kitchen was next to the room, a miniature space with a small chunk of wall separating it from the living room that created two large entrances on either end of the kitchen. The bathroom was nestled between the kitchen and bedroom.

Jenny chuckled to herself, seeing just how  _little_  there was in the house. The living room had a bookshelf, a couch, and tv at one end, with a table at the other. The bedroom had a bed and a night stand, while the kitchen had a mini table. And that was it.

"This place is practically  _Spartan_ ," Jenny sighed, giving a light kick to the bed frame. It was probably a good thing the place was so empty. Otherwise, it might have reminded her of Corbin's place, the good old fashioned and rustic Americana vibe gently clawing her insides out.

She sighed again, wondering how the  _hell_  they expected to furnish this place, when all she had for transportation was a  _horse_.

Outside, her horse gave an indignant whinny, making her jump.

"Alright, so the thing's in my head, too."

Jenny wasn't sure if that was  _very_  helpful, or  _very_  creepy.

She leaned against the door frame to the main living space, eyeing down the place. The other Horsemen had at least been able to go to their roots, Abraham to his family's carriage house, Henry to the place where he had been born. Jenny, however, was left alone in a stranger's house.

Jenny had been in and out of mental wards, and sometimes even restricted to solitary confinement, yet she had never felt quite so  _alone._

Jenny worked around the problem of not having a car by stealing one. She could have certainly asked a Hessian for one, as they seemed to exist to do the Horsemen's bidding, but she wanted to be able to do  _something_  by herself.

When she left the house, her horse immediately came out of the small single car garage that was his new stable, eager to go somewhere. Jenny compulsively reached out and stroked his neck, her distaste from before vanishing.

"We just went riding," she murmured, almost laughing at his disappointment. "I'll be gone for a few hours, just hold tight, okay? I'll bring you back a whole  _bag_  of apples."

The horse snuffled at her neck, making her laugh.

"Yep, I know, sounds  _amazing._  We can eat apples and go play until the sun goes down when I come back, alright? Go graze in the pasture over there, if you get hungry. And if it smells bad,  _don't_  eat it." Jenny smoothed her hand over the horse's nose once more, trying not to feel like a fussy mother. The horse had been possessed by the forces of evil, he would know not to eat something that would kill him.

Jenny walked down the path away from the cabin, glancing back occasionally. Her horse stayed still for a few long moments, then slowly walked to the pasture on the far side of the house.

Within twenty minutes, Jenny had found a car and was driving into town. She composed a list of things to buy in her head as she drove ( _bread, apples, soap, potatoes, printer paper, a thing of Oreos…two things of Oreos…)_ , and tried not to think about what would happen if she ran across the Witnesses while grocery shopping. She made quick work of the grocery store, powering through the aisles and crossing items off of her napkin checklist.

"Stocking up?" the cashier asked when she reached the check-out line, casting an eye over her purchases.

"Didn't you know? World could end any day."

"Certainly what it's starting to feel like," the cashier grumbled good naturedly. Jenny laughed, because he had  _no idea._

Jenny left the store shortly after, smiling and waving the baggers away as she worked her cart to her car. Her groceries filled up the trunk and the middle seat, but she managed to fit everything alright.

On a spur of the moment decision, Jenny found herself wheeling the car up the lane to Tarrytown Psychiatric. It was honestly the last place she wanted to go, and completely out of her way, but she had said good bye to Ichabod and Abbie, she might as well say it to Frank.

The woman at the reception desk looked exceptionally surprised to see her, but one look at Jenny's cold smile said she was  _not_  there to stay.

"Mills," Frank said, surprise coloring his tone as he walked into the common area. "Didn't think you'd come here."

"Yeah, definitely the last place I want to be," she sighed, the place already setting her teeth on edge. Frank settled into the chair opposite her, looking like he was bracing himself for something.

"So…why're you here, then? Did something happen?"

Jenny gave him a tired smile, and did not answer for what seemed like a long time.

"No, nothing new. I just… I know how hard it is, being in here. Abbie's busy with work, and Ichabod can't drive anywhere with Reyes cracking down, but I've got time."

"That's nice of you," he said, clearly trying to decide if she was speaking in some sort of code. Jenny shrugged, and ran a hand through her hair.

"So, how is it? I see you're not getting beaten up anymore."

"No, but the doctors are surprisingly intolerant of patients that see demons everywhere. They're not  _actually_  doing anything, but—" He broke off, then glanced up at her. They didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Sorry I didn't take you more seriously before," he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. Jenny put a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a quick squeeze.

"It's alright. You don't really…" She trailed off, frowning slightly.

"Don't really what?" Frank asked, glancing over his shoulder, wondering if something had stolen her attention. Jenny shook her head, smile coming back. She hoped he didn't notice just how forced it was.

"You don't really have it as bad as you think. Once you get over the pity party, you start seeing how good things are. You're not in a straitjacket, you get to talk to the other patients, get to choose what you have for lunch."

"Oh, please, that food is a whole 'nother type of torture," Frank sighed, leaning back in his chair. He seemed to have missed the false air of brightness in her voice. Jenny gave him another smile, this one entirely sincere.

"You'll make it out alive, Irving. I just know it."

* * *

Jenny cantered up the drive to Frederick's Manor, flinging herself off of her horse the moment she didn't think she was in danger of breaking her neck. War's horse gave a high whinny, appearing from around the other side of the house as she stalked to the door.

"Back off, _"_ she snarled as the horse came nearer, looking ready to bite her for invading its master's territory. The horse slowed, then gave a rough snort when Jenny's own horse approached. The two seemed to converse, and then the red horse settled at the front steps, a warning to Jenny.

She ignored the horses and shoved the front door open, yelling out,  _"Henry!_ " as she stormed through the house. She found him on the second floor, sitting on a stool in front of a miniature version of Sleepy Hollow. He looked over at her, the now typical smile on his face.

"Ah, Famine, I didn't expect a visit."

"You stole Irving's soul," she spat, not having time for his mind games. His expression lightened in mock surprise, then turned into an even darker smile.

"So you went to see our dear captain, did you? I hope you were careful with what you told him."

"You  _stole_  his  _soul,_ " she repeated, glaring at him. This was all War, now, the haughtiness and well-earned pride simmering through to the surface. He sighed and turned to face her fully, a gesture more condescending than his politeness.

"Yes, I did."

" _Why?_ How did you do it? Irving clearly doesn't know what's happened, when did you—what could you possibly  _gain_  from this?"

"I took it in exchange for my services as his lawyer," he explained.

"His  _lawyer_? Some kind of lawyer you are, keeping him from a death sentence only to drop him into  _Hell on earth!_ "

"If he has problems with it, then he should have read the  _fine print_ ," War countered, the twisted levity in his face dropping like a stone. He stood, and Jenny found herself clenching her teeth. She hated the dread in her stomach caused by this old man.

"You come here in all of your self-righteous glory, the new Horseman of Famine, mighty in ways the other two couldn't possibly  _dream,_ but you are still just a  _child_  playing at these games of war."

"War is not a game, these people's lives aren't just  _toys_  for you to take when no one's looking!"

"War  _is_  my game, Famine, and I will play it in any way that will assure we  _win._ Taking Captain Frank Irving's soul ensures another soldier, one to fight with Lord Moloch when he finally comes! I have deprived the Witnesses of another ally, one of perilously few, now, making them desperate and  _weak_. You are new to this, you might still be blinded by those human trappings that you call a former life, but I, oh I have had all of that stripped away, I can see more clearly than either you or Death."

"All's fair in war, then," she said, not even bothering with a sneer. War gave a black laugh.

"Is that supposed to reproach me, make me feel  _guilty_  for the things I have done in the service of our master?"

"What  _are_ you doing for Moloch, then? Because from here, it looks like a heaving mess, meant to just make people suffer for no reason!"

"Oh," Henry said, face resolving into another wicked smile. " _O_ _h._  Do you not know, then? Has Lord Moloch not deemed to visit you, to show you his plan?"

Jenny glared at him, because he knew he was right. Jenny hadn't really thought about it before now, her brief time as a Horseman used for other ponderings. But now it felt like a trick, a cruel joke that showed just how inferior she was to the man standing before her. Why  _hadn't_  Moloch come to her, why had the only time she had heard his voice was when she had bargained for Abbie's life?

"War may be your ' _game'_ ," Jenny said, voice all ice, "but famine is mine. It is  _my_  job to starve the Witnesses of their hope and their power, not yours. Play how you want, but  _don't_  over step your bounds."

"So this is all a matter of fulfilling your role, I  _see_."

"As opposed to  _what_?"

"Nothing, specifically. Only…it wouldn't be the first time a Horseman acted for personal gain."

"No," Jenny said, casting a glance around the room as if she could encompass the whole house. "It wouldn't be."

She turned around and stalked to the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

* * *

As if spurred by her argument with Henry, Moloch visited her.

It was horrible. All of Moloch's might, all of his terrible glory had been cast upon her soul, turning her small and weak. She had only caught a glimpse of him as a child, but now he was before her, towering and imposing enough to send her to her knees. His voice was a roar in her ears, speaking a language she couldn't decipher, but somehow understood. This was not the becoming whisper that had spoken to her before, this was Moloch casting aside all pretense to command his Horseman.

Jenny refused to brace her hands against the ground as his plans rushed into her head, hating that she was practically hunched on the ground. She tried to straighten, tried to look up, but some intense instinct told her  _do not_ , so she kept her eyes averted.

It didn't last long. Within an eye blink, Jenny was back in her cabin, slumped against a wall. Every part of her felt numb.

She stumbled to the bathroom, and ran the shower without adjusting the temperature. She took her clothes off and stepped in, struggling to process the overwhelming  _knowledge_  that had been crammed into her brain.

The Witnesses knew so little. It was almost laughable, how unprepared they were. She was only aware of the outline and then the fine details that concerned her, but even that made it unmistakable how ill off they were. She had called them a reactionary force, like the other Horsemen hadn't already known, but seeing seeing this, seeing it all laid out in her head, it was glaringly obvious. That was one of their primary weaknesses, not having the guile to work things to their own ends. And so Moloch had devised a plan that would keep them running around clueless until it was too late for them to do anything.

Jenny leaned her head into the corner of the shower, not feeling the cold water as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the horror that still clung to her skin. Moloch. She had been afraid of him since she was a little girl, had tried to hide it under a big front and a dead set determination to become strong. But now the old fear was coming back, and then being consumed by a new one.

She had never felt quite so  _small_  in all her life.

* * *

Time was slow to pass. Jenny began to look for anything that would eat away her days. She found things for her cabin, cooked all of her meals from scratch, watched tv shows and movies to use up hour blocks of time. She also found a good deal of her time being spent on compulsively learning about horses.

She knew her horse was a smart beast, more self-aware than practically any other creature on Earth, but the persistent worry of accidentally killing her mount never really went away. Jenny barely managed to give basic friendships enough attention and support to last a few months. How the hell was she supposed to take care of a  _horse_?

The horse, however, turned out to require very little care at all. As long as she provided somewhere for him to sleep and brushed him every day, he seemed fine. He, in turn, came and went as he pleased, exploring the pasture and the woods around the cabin. Jenny's only real requirement was that he not be seen by other people, and not go to the bathroom in the garage.

"I am  _not_  cleaning up horse shit," she told him frankly, the first night he had spent with her. "Either you  _hold_   _it_ , or you take yourself outside to the woods."

There must have been something crazy in her eyes, because they didn't have a single incident.

As Jenny came to know her horse, she felt supremely awkward about him not having a name. Granted, she didn't have anyone to talk to him about, but she wanted to mark him as her own, wanted to show that he wasn't just a tool she used, but was something she cared about. The first contender was  _Black Beauty_ , which made her snort out loud, and then turn so she could tell Abbie. She had slowly turned back around, because she had somehow managed to forget that Abbie was no longer there to roll her eyes and crack a smile over her sister's antics.

(saving her life seemed a lot more bittersweet, now that Jenny realized it meant never seeing her sister, until the world actually ended.)

Jenny sorted through names, until she finally settled on the name ' _Zubin'._  When she had first called him that, he had shuffled and stared at her, as if asking what on earth she had just called him. Then Jenny had put her hands on her hips, because she was absolutely not about to bicker over names with a horse. He had huffed and walked over, as if resigning himself to her will.

"It's a good name," she had whispered, stroking his cheek. "I knew I guy named that, when I was in Turkey for the first time. He was just about the only thing that made me smile for those whole two weeks. It's a good name."

Zubin gave a long blow, and nuzzled her shoulder. Jenny smiled, and then said, "See? You're already living up to him."

It made Jenny feel a little less lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Henry I love Henry I love Henry. I literally care not what anyone else says, he is the best character on there and he could probably do anything and I would still love the slimy little snake.


	3. chip away those weaker pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. yes i'm still working on this  
> 2\. The relationship between Katrina and Jenny as I feel it is supposed to be is so incredibly important to me. Then again, pretty much everything involving Jenny is supes important to me, so.  
> 3\. I can verify that after watching Vikings, my fight scenes have become about 100% more violent. Especially with the Horseman. I mean, _hatchets._

Jenny was getting used to horseback riding. She wasn't sure how she would actually fare in a fight, even though she had practiced handling her spear while riding Zubin, but she certainly felt comfortable enough to ride him to the coach house. Which, she supposed as the house came into sight, was tantamount to riding him into battle.

As she neared, Death's horse (whom she shamelessly entitled ' _Snowball_ ' in her head) came out to stare her down, just as War's horse had. Jenny made a show of completely ignoring the horse as it snorted and stared at her, red eyes digging into her back.

"Calm down," she said, striding past the horse. "I'm not gonna hurt your dad."

 _Like I could,_  she thought to herself, walking to the front door. As she came closer, it opened and Death appeared. Just as she had expected, he had a hatchet in his hand. She hoped the concessions she had made for him, such as the appearance after night and her lack of weapons would dissuade him from challenging her. Then again, he didn't like her as it was, and posturing seemed pretty much hardwired into his system.

Jenny stopped a couple of paces away, more out of respect than fear of his weapon (though, getting chopped by it would certainly hurt like a bitch, even with her new found healing powers). He didn't say anything, just watched her from the doorway. He hefted the hatchet in his hand, like he was barely thinking about it. Jenny knew full well it could end up in her chest without a thought.

"I want to see the witch," she told him. His expression soured, and the grip on the hatchet tightened.

"What purpose do you have with Katrina?"

"I want to talk to her. I doubt she has much of a social life, here."

The suspicion on his face didn't change, but he shifted down from a battle stance to a more casual power stance. He returned to hefting the hatchet, considering her.

"You came to simply visit her?"

"Yep. Here for some quality girl talk, which, if you let me by without hacking off an arm, could be really awesome for you."

He lifted his head, and in that second, he seemed like Abraham, not the Horseman. His gaze turned a little bit more considerate, like he actually cared about what she said.

"How so?"

"Well, for one, it would make you look like less of a possessive kidnapper," Jenny said frankly. Abraham's eyes narrowed, but the complete lack of spite in her words kept his hackles lowered.

_This is too weird. I'm reasoning with Death, because he's worried about seeming like a possessive creep to his crush. This is my life, now._

"Look, this way Katrina won't think that you're keeping her locked up for your use only. She'll like you a whole lot more if you let some friends come by.  _Plus_ , it's not a bad thing, having someone close to Katrina that's in your corner. If you let me in, I can talk you up, make her think about you in a different light. Trust me," she added when she saw him start to weigh her offer, "this is how girls work."

"Fine," he said, stepping aside in a sharp, efficient movement. "She's in the left wing."

Jenny nodded at him, and walked into the house. She could feel his eyes on her as she strode to the back of the house, and then took a left. Katrina's room had candles inside of it, the light warm and enticing.

Katrina was brushing her hair when Jenny paused in the doorway. Jenny had never had a very clear picture of Ichabod's wife. For so long, she had been a figure, a name that had done things centuries ago that was drastically affecting everything now. And then had been burned at the stake for it. Looking at her now, it was very apparent that Katrina did not fit the enigmatic martyr image in Jenny's head. She was tired and thin boned, and seemed exceptionally mundane. But there was some reserve of fire in her chest that Jenny could  _feel_ across the room, produced by a magical little coal that had refused to go out.

 _That_  was what made Jenny believe she had saved a Witness, aided President George Washington, and combated the forces of the Devil.

She was faced away from the door, but Jenny could see enough of her face to tell she was completely zoned out, the strokes of her hairbrush slow and half-hearted. Her room looked nice enough, with a couple chairs, a vanity, and a chest at the foot of the bed, but something about it still seemed empty. Katrina must have sensed someone in the doorway, because jumped when she saw Jenny in her mirror.

"What're you—who are you?" she asked, voice low as she hurried to her feet.

"Jenny Mills." The words felt odd on her tongue. It sounded so simple, so vague.

"Mills—you're the sister of Abbie Mills? Is she here, is Ichabod—are they here again? Abraham—the Horseman, he's here, you have to leave! If he finds you—"

Katrina cut herself off, noticing the casual way Jenny was standing there, completely unconcerned about anything. She frowned, and fell back a step.

"No, you're not… _no_ , you're one of Moloch's servants." The mild betrayal on this woman's face hurt almost as much as Abbie's devastation had. Jenny didn't react, though, just stood there with a blank expression.

"But…you  _are_  Miss Mills' sister, correct?"

"Yes."

Katrina frowned, and leaned against the chair. Jenny gave a thin smile at that, clearly seeing Katrina's worry at yet another spy supposedly in the Witnesses' midst.

"I am Abbie's sister, as well as the Horseman of Famine," she explained, the words taking on a dark ring to them. Katrina looked up at that, expression even more disheartened. "It's…a pretty new development."

"Why are you here?" she asked, voice softer now. Jenny shrugged, glanced around the room.

"I figured you could use someone new to talk to. Change things up a little bit. Can I…?" Jenny gestured into Katrina's room, and she gave a slow nod. Jenny stepped in, but stopped in the middle of the room. Katrina was already staring at her like she was a rabid animal, Jenny didn't need to freak her out any more.

"Three Horsemen. When…when did this happen?"

"Two weeks ago."

"And prior to that…"

"I was on Abbie and Ichabod's team, yeah. And then…things kinda got away from me."

Katrina didn't say anything, but the way her face  _fell_ , a sorrowful understanding that came from seeing the same thing happen to both her former fiancé and her son, tugged at Jenny's heart. It was like Katrina was pulling her into her arms and whispering,  _"It's alright, I know it is hard,_ " and meaning every word.

"But we're not here to talk about me," Jenny said, shrugging and glancing away. Katrina gave another slow nod, and let the subject go.

They spent about ten minutes making small talk, then Jenny bid her a polite goodbye. Katrina seemed a little bemused the entire time, as if she couldn't figure out why Jenny was really there. When no wicked machinations could be found, though, she started warming up, relaxing enough to smile and sit down in the chair.

A day or so later, Jenny had returned, sailing past Abraham with a casual, " _Hey_ ", and a warmer, "How's it going?" to Katrina. The woman again looked surprised to see Jenny there, but she seemed less wary than last time. That was, until Jenny closed her door and dropped her backpack on Katrina's bed.

"So, let's talk," Jenny said, turning to face Katrina. She stood akimbo, surveying the woman before her.

"…Yes?" Katrina asked, shifting where she stood. Jenny sighed through her nose, figuring it was probably best just to tackle this head on.

"Alright. I've brought you a survival kit for when you go on your period. I'm hoping you haven't had it yet, which means it's been, like, two hundred plus years since you've had one, so it could be a little brutal."

" _What_?" Katrina asked, staring at Jenny like she was more than a little crazy. "Are you—do you mean—"

"Your time of the month? Your womanly cycle? Uh, when the flow cometh? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about," Jenny said, nodding at the vaguely mortified expression on her face.

Jenny guided Katrina over to the bed, and they both sat down. Jenny pulled out each item and explained what it was used for. Katrina looked doubtful and a little embarrassed at first, but then started nodding thoughtfully.

"What prompted you to do this?" she asked when Jenny finished, casting her eyes over the boxes and bags Jenny had packed in.

"Uhm, the basic human decency I have left? I mean, once I realized that you would be having to deal with it by yourself, I knew something had to be done. There is no woman on earth that should be forced to live without modern feminine hygiene products. Plus, I don't think you exactly wanted to ask Headless out there if one of the Hessians could go on a midnight tampon run."

"Ehm,  _no_ ," Katrina said, breaking into the first honest to goodness laugh Jenny had heard from her. She grinned at her, and popped a couple M&Ms into her mouth (Jenny had told her that they were for when 'things get bad', and Katrina had been curious, and then delighted. The bar of Cadbury chocolate was not to be opened until 'things get  _really_  bad').

Katrina gave a soft sigh, and neatly stacked up her new arsenal. She ran a finger over the glossy wrappers, eyes drinking in the bright colors. The quiet intensity with which she had her first gaze at the modern world made Jenny want to take her into the city, show her everything at once, give her all of the wonder and the disappointment the world now had to offer. Ichabod was curious about the developments of this new world, but Jenny was certain Katrina would thrive in it.

"Thank you for this, Miss Mills," she said, sincere and a little incredulous that Jenny would do something like this for her.

"No, no no, you're not calling me 'Miss Mills'. I had enough of that with your husband. You're gonna call me Jenny, alright?"

"But we only just—"

"Look, I just walked you through what to do on your period. Formality has kind of been shot to the ground."

"I suppose you're right," Katrina allowed, another embarrassed smile on her face. She put another M&M into her mouth, showing inhuman restraint by eating them one by one, making them last for as long as possible.

"It's all a little strange. I mean, this…this is certainly unlike anything we had in my time," Katrina told her, gesturing vaguely at the pile between them.

"Yeah? What'd you do before? No, never mind, I don't actually want to know. Focus on the here and now, right?"

"Yes, I suppose that's a way to do it," Katrina laughed, holding the secret of archaic hygiene practices to her chest.

When Jenny left, she had Katrina's laughter and Abraham's nod of grudging gratitude filling her chest.

* * *

Things started moving at a faster rate. Moloch's time was nearing, so the Horsemen needed to gather the Hellfire shards immediately. Jenny wasn't entirely sure what schemes War was putting in place to keep the Witnesses busy, but she could feel his spells and his curses taking place across town, and the wash of sorrow that went with it. She shut her eyes every time, closing herself off from the pain and suffering to the bystanders in their wretched and glorious war, a neat little prologue to what would come later.

Her part in all of this was a much quieter sort. A few trips to local farms and water supplies and she was fine. The magic she stirred into the water and grain barrels seeped throughout. It would be days until the Witnesses noticed the goodness starved from the population, draining everyone they came into contact with to help.

And then it was her time to act, but in a much bigger way. She mounted Zubin and rode out, spear gripped firmly in hand. She followed the road to one of a thousand historical sites in Sleepy Hollow, an old field that had held some special battle or other. What she was interested in, however, was a great tree perched at the edge of the clearing. It was older than Sleepy Hollow itself, and had witnessed the bloodshed and then flourished from the bodies littering the ground.

She swung off Zubin, feeling the earth brace itself against her. And then, deeper, the hum of something buried far below.

Jenny brandished her spear, then spun it so that the blade faced the earth. She gouged in the tip, tracing out the shapes of starvation in the dirt. As she worked, the sun sank, as if too disheartened to stay in the sky. Jenny kept working, seeing where she needed to plant her spear tip as she wound her way around the enormous trunk, Moloch whispering the words into her head. It was so much  _easier_  this way, having a grand master that knew everything she needed to. No more blindly fumbling about in the dark, no more desperately hoping some half-cocked plan would work out, just faithful obedience and  _results_.

The runes she made hummed to her, a grinding, satisfying sound of things  _happening._  They glowed black in the dirt as their magic seeped deeper and deeper into the ground, going to poison the roots of this ancient tree so that it would give up the next Hellfire Shard, the Stone of Oblivion.

" _Jenny_?"

She whirled around, spear at the ready before she registered the voice. But her stomach seemed to catch on before her head, because it was clenched in knots before Jenny made out the shape of Abbie, lit from behind by Ichabod's flashlight.

She grit her teeth, and waited.

"Jenny, what're you doing?"

"Following orders," she said, cocking at eyebrow as if to say ' _Surprising, I know'_  as Abbie crept closer, flashlight fixed on her face. It flicked over to Zubin, who pranced and huffed at them. Jenny noticed there was a soft glow coming from his mouth, like he had a furnace between his ribs.

"Miss Jenny," Ichabod began, voice so, so careful, "what, may I ask, caused this betrayal? When did you  _ever_  willingly consort with Moloch?"

"When it really counted," Jenny said, adjusting her grip on her spear.

"You committed your  _life_  to fighting him!" Abbie said, hurt and angry and so very close to falling to her knees. "You gave everything to defeat him, and now you're his  _henchman_?"

"Yeah, well, sometimes there are more important things," Jenny said, not taking her eyes from her sister's face. There was no way she could understand. With her limited understanding, the understanding of a human sent to do divine work with no one to tell her how, she would never see that the end was inevitable. The only hope she had, any of them had, was being spared the worst of the destruction. When the world was over and Moloch rose, she was ensured a place in Jenny's kingdom. Few could claim to be so lucky.

"You know I can't let you do this.  _We_  can't let you do this. You've got to be stopped," Abbie warned, and Jenny noticed for the first time that her sister was holding a gun.

"Alright," Jenny said, settling into a battle stance and pointing the spear at her chest. If she hurt her, then it was all done to spare her Moloch's wrath later.

A whinny shrieked across the field, making both Witnesses wheel around. Death charged towards them, burning axe raised high. The two of them scattered, throwing their flashlights to the ground as they went for cover. Ichabod dove behind a tree, while Abbie disappeared into some bushes. Death slung himself off of his horse, and stalked to where Abbie was.

Ichabod ducked from tree to tree while Death was preoccupied, coming over to engage Jenny. As he neared, Jenny saw the flash of something in his hand, but she stayed still, waiting for him to get within reach. Ichabod scooped up a long, relatively straight branch as he came, and whirled out the first blow.

Jenny blocked, almost laughing at his graceful, formal style, full of showmanship and twirls. Jenny, on the other hand, fought down and dirty, wasting no time on honor or dignity. She moved with the intent on making him stay down, slamming her staff against his. In one moment of uneven footing, he received a vicious blow to the ribs, which made him double over, wheezing for breath. Jenny swung down the blade end of her staff, which he just barely blocked. The blade sunk a good ways in, lodging into the wood. Jenny jerked back her staff, yanking the tree branch from his hands. Ichabod was immediately searching for another weapon, staggering out of the way of another heavy handed blow, this time with the blunt end.

Jenny heard Abbie yell in pain, and glanced around to find that her battle with Death was even less successful. The two had wandered closer, as Abbie frantically tried to evade Death in all senses of the term. She had managed to injure him, Jenny supposed she had had her bullets blessed by an especially powerful priest or something, but he was still coming full force, axe burning through the air. She had yelled out when the blade had come to close, burning her arm through her jacket.

Jenny stabbed out with her spear, twisting it between his arms as he attempted an over handed blow. He snapped his head over to her, baring his teeth in anger, but Jenny just snarled, "She is _mine_ ,"  _daring_  him to try to kill her sister. She pulled the staff away, feeling Abbie staring at her from the ground, but Jenny did not meet her eyes.

Ichabod took advantage of her distraction and tackled her in the side, wrestling the staff from her hands. Zubin screamed, a rough, terribly piercing sound, and almost kicked Ichabod in the head. He scrambled back, allowing Jenny enough time to get to her feet. She reached for her spear, then paused when she realized she couldn't feel her arm.

She glanced down at it, frowning when she saw the charm loosely fastened to her wrist. It looked like a bracelet in and of itself, except it was connected to a hemp cord. And, of course, a frosty blue light was forming at its center. The numbness that was consuming most of her arm was starting to turn cold, creeping up to her shoulder and her neck. Presumably, it was meant to incapacitate her, though without causing her serious harm. She yelped and grabbed her spear, scraping it off and flinging it away. Her arm still hung like dead weight, but the feeling was coming back into it. She turned back to Ichabod, wrath suddenly swinging up in her chest, and she hefted the spear. A small seal at the bottom of her staff started to glow, heated the same way Death's axe was. This time, when she struck Ichabod with it, he would be sealed into a state of perpetual starvation, only a drizzle of consciousness remaining to register his suffering.

Ichabod blinked at her, as if suddenly realizing his mistake, and leaped out of range.

"Leftenant," he called, using his I'm-totally-not-freaking-out-see-how-calm-I-am-I-am-the-epitome-of-calm voice, "perhaps maybe we could call in for reinforcements?"

"Just thinking the same thing," she grunted, whacking Death in the back of the knees with a stick and making him buckle. Jenny saw her paw around for something, then produced a sort of reed whistle. She blew on it for all she was worth, but no sound was produced. Still, Jenny felt a thrill go across her skin, feeling the whistle's affects rather than hearing it.

She glanced around, ready for something to happen, whether it was the trees come alive and hoist the two Horsemen into the air, or a new ally come raging out of the tree line, wielding some sort of magic powered bazooka. And yet, she was  _not_  ready for the hair raising hiss-like sound coming from ahead. She and Death turned to see  _something_  running toward them, crossing the clearing at an alarming speed. Death grimaced and turned to her, managing, " _It's the Kindred,"_ before the monster was on them.

Jenny had never seen the monster in action. She hadn't actually ever seen the thing, period, but Frankenstein's monster had been a very apt description. Except it was fast.

The creature launched itself at Death, wielding what looked like a pickax. He caught the pickax on his broad axe, then shoved the Kindred away. Abbie got to her feet, watching the fight, ready to run the moment things turned sour. Jenny willed her sister to leave, willed her to go back and find safety until Jenny could come for her, but when Abbie turned to her, her gaze said ' _one left'._

Jenny lifted her spear, the seal on the bottom cooling so she could safely fight her sister, when again Ichabod slammed into her, pinning her to the ground as he frantically wound the hemp cord around her wrists. She gasped, face in the dirt, trying to heave him off as the numbness raced up her again, leaving her useless. He got off of her, then turned to the runes she had burned into the dirt, and the opening they had made. She tried to force herself to her knees, tried to do  _anything_ to stop Ichabod from pawing into the hole at the ancient tree's roots, but she fell back to the ground, heaving for breath.

Death hacked a hatchet into both of the Kindred's thighs, momentarily forcing the creature to the ground. He wheeled around, murder in his eyes as he sized up the two Witnesses, and then his fellow Horseman. And in a miracle, he stalked over to her, and struck off the charm with the hatchet. Jenny braced herself with arms that did not quite work, gasping as the ice let go of her ribs. She looked up at him, but he had already turned away, reengaging the Kindred, which had rearmed itself with the pickax.

Jenny picked up her spear, and faced Ichabod. Dirt was flying as his hands searched for their prize, completely absorbed in his task. Jenny gripped her spear with both hands, and then whacked him squarely in the chest with it. He flew backwards, coughing as he attempted to regain his senses. Jenny knelt before the hole, and stabbed her spear into the roots blocking her way. They shriveled and moved aside, revealing a perfect black ball.

Jenny clenched the Stone of Oblivion in her hand, and stood up.

"Horseman!" she called, stalking to Zubin (she did not notice Abbie crouched over Ichabod, glaring at her with all of the hate and pain her crooked heart could possess, she did not she did not she did  _not_ ). Death glanced at her, astride her mount and ready to go, then took one last swipe at the Kindred. It jerked back, snarling at him, and then Death was climbing onto his own horse. They galloped away together, leaving the Witnesses to pick up their pride and their hope in silence.

She wasn't sure if it was Jenny or Famine grinning in triumph at their first victory as a Horseman.

* * *

Jenny was brushing Zubin when Moloch visited her again. She felt her hands clutch at his mane, while her mind was ripped away to Purgatory.

It was as impersonal and efficient as before. Moloch's very presence forced her to avert her eyes as he gave orders. There was no congratulations at the acquisition of the Stone of Oblivion, no display of pleasure that his agents performed so well. Not that Jenny had been expecting it, but the flat, unmoving demand that she always deliver shook her. It was a thankless god she served, indeed.

A few finer details of the plan were provided, and then Jenny was again banished from his presence. She sagged against Zubin, legs having gone weak. The horse seemed to realize that she needed support, because he stood still, offering all of the comfort he could give.

Jenny let out a long, slow breath when she realized that tears were dripping onto his side.

To shake off her gloom, Jenny visited Katrina. Abraham seemed to have resigned himself to her randomly appearing whenever she felt like it, as he no longer stared her down at the door, and Snowball didn't come over to menace her and Zubin. Jenny felt quite pleased to think that, inch by inch, Abraham was removing the stick from up his ass.

"Jenny," Katrina said, seeming genuinely pleased when she saw her at the door, "I thought I heard you arrive."

Jenny smiled back at the woman, and allowed herself to be waved to a seat. Things started out like normal, but Jenny quickly realized that Katrina's small talk was hiding a pointed line of questioning. Jenny smiled very politely, and defaulted to the evasive tactics her doctors had come to despise. Eventually, Katrina gave up the charade.

She gave a huff of breath, and said, "I had to try." She lifted her chin in challenge, as if proclaiming her steadfast loyalties to the Witnesses. It warmed Jenny's heart, because it was sweet, in a naive way.

"Sure," Jenny said, rocking onto the chair's back legs. "I just resent being interrogated. Had it done too many times in the past."

Katrina frowned at her, as if confused that Jenny didn't snap at her. She pursed her lips, and hesitantly asked, "You…won't tell Abraham, then?"

"What good would that do? King and country over there is suspicious already, he doesn't need to think I'm giving away secrets."

"I don't want to see them hurt," Katrina said, slumping back into her chair and looking away from Jenny.

"Neither do I," Jenny admitted, remembering her attempt to doom Ichabod to a starving nothing with a disconnected squeeze in her stomach. Katrina's eyes swung back to her, full of questions.

"Then why do you fight against them?"

"It's a big picture sort of thing," Jenny sighed, looking at Katrina's firmly shuttered window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Abraham is the Horseman of Death, I imagine that he sees everything as a great big pissing match.


	4. comfort for chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some strong feelings about this chapter. I want to run around high fiving everybody in here. Some more in the face than in the hand. Potentially with a chair. Abraham I am looking at you.
> 
> But I do it out of love, I swear.

 

Fighting the Witnesses was getting easier. They still focused their efforts on incapacitation, rather than eliminating her, which was helpful and a little sad. She also noticed that they channeled the biggest, most dangerous tasks to Abbie, as they had put two and two together and realized that Jenny wouldn't let her be hurt. It was anyone's guess if they realized that she had bargained for Abbie's soul, the way Abraham had done for Katrina.

It was all pointless, though. Even with the aid of the Kindred, which seemed to have been tamed, three Horsemen was too much for them. They swept through Sleepy Hollow with now belligerent abandon, grabbing up the Hellfire Shards. Typically, it was Death and Famine fighting the Witnesses, though War's avatar made an occasional appearance. Sometimes, though, they were forced to retreat. Either they came too late, and the sun chased Death away and left Jenny alone, or the Witnesses had some ace up their sleeve that required an immediate regroup (Jenny suspected Hawley's involvement, but didn't elaborate too much to the other Horsemen).

When they did win, either she or Abraham took their prize back to Henry for the next part of the spell. Jenny disliked having to do it, as it meant having to deal with Henry. She had found it a good policy to avoid him, as he seemed to delight in unhappiness. Still, he remained perfectly civil as long as she didn't attack first, but there was always a malevolent edge to his words.

Despite Jenny's tireless efforts, Abraham still found it his personal mission to distrust her. He rarely said anything outright, but his suspicion over her loyalties dogged her steps. Once, she did lash out. She snapped that  _he_  wasn't exactly the prime example of following Moloch's every order, what with going on a rampage, mutilating corpses, and nearly killing both Witnesses, just to satisfy his man pain against Ichabod. Instantly, he was in her face, an axe in hand before she could draw another breath. A lazy reprimand from Henry set them back to their respective corners, but the glare Abraham shot her seemed to stab through her ribs and make it hard to breathe. It certainly made sense, him being able to kill with a look. Or at least get very, very close.

That was before they defeated the Kindred.

Jenny had never understood the thrill of fighting. The buzz and the giddy belief that she could do anything didn't exist for Jenny. She had always had to play it smart (more or less), had never given herself over to the arrogant and suicidal rush. She sat behind a gun, covering the options, thinking of back up plans, praying on her figurative hands and knees as she bluffed and punched and feinted. But now she was a Horseman, she had the power of the Devil in her heels and hellfire in her hands. She wasn't fighting to survive, she was fighting to gain.

It was a sharp haze, sounds and sights spearing through her and telling her all that she needed. War's sword, flaming and vicious, came down on the sword the Kindred was wielding, seething through the blade. The Kindred struck War's chest plate, sending the avatar backwards as the Kindred whirled and caught Death's axe on its' mangled sword. The sword broke as the Kindred swept Death's legs from beneath him, and then caught the blade of Famine's spear on the side. It pulled the weapon out, nearly ripping the shaft from her hands, then ramming the end back into her chest.

She fell to the ground, winded, then hauled herself back to her feet. The Kindred had similarly grabbed onto Death's hatchet, and swung it at his limbs, attempting to hack him away into nothing. War had returned, and sliced through the air to cut the monster in half. It pivoted, allowing Death to grab the hatchet and flip it over his shoulder. The Kindred leaped to its feet, only to have Death slam the hatchet blade home into its foot. The monster screamed, and Jenny stabbed forward, not thinking, just  _acting._  Her wrath channeled from her head to her staff, sinking into the creature's chest. Energy churned at the tip and then burned a crater into the Kindred's chest.

The Kindred stumbled backward, making a strange, pathetic moan. Death did not hesitate, though, slamming it to the ground and producing his broad axe, and then swinging it through the monster's neck. The blade hissed as it burned away the magic, releasing the curse's hold on Death's head.

Jenny busied herself with getting to her feet to avoid seeing him lift it high like a trophy.

* * *

Jenny was making spaghetti when she heard another horse in her driveway. She stirred her pot, scowling to herself as she felt Zubin warn her  _white steed death and witch_. Jenny huffed out a sigh, and stalked through her small cabin.

It was her turn to eye down her visitors from the doorway, but whereas Abraham loomed with a weapon in hand, she leaned against the frame, towel over her shoulder and arms tightly crossed.

He moved closer to her, not even deigning to acknowledge Zubin's hostility. He was leading Katrina by the arm. She looked serious and uncertain, but Jenny couldn't see anything wrong with her.

"I don't remember scheduling a tea party," Jenny said, raising an eyebrow at him when he stopped just inside the light cast by her open door. He lifted his head, as if reluctant to speak his piece. His hair had changed, now that he actually had his head. The wig was gone, leaving him with a simple pony tail. Jenny also noticed a ragged scar peeking out from the top of his collar from where he had been decapitated. Predictably, death had been kind to him, as that was the only marring he retained.

"I have a favor to ask of you," he said, voice stiff. Jenny flicked her eyes to Katrina, expression unchanging. Katrina, for her part, seemed to be holding something in, hiding what she was truly feeling.

"Yeah? Usually you ask before you show up expecting it."

Abraham took a long breath through his nose, like he was trying to hold his temper in check. Jenny heaved herself away from the doorframe, tossed the towel onto the couch, and sauntered down the front steps.

"Walk with me," she told him, walking into the darkness. She could feel Abraham pause, considering Katrina, then left her. Presumably, her powers were dampened, and there wasn't much of a chance of escape from two Horsemen and their horses.

"Say it," Jenny ordered, once they were out of Katrina's earshot. Her arms were still folded tight, telling Abraham she was  _not_  psyched to have this dumped on her front step.

"I need you to watch after Katrina," he said, voice still stiff. "I have been ordered to obtain the last Hellfire Shard by Moloch."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. The vague light from her cabin caught the very edge of his face. Of course, his expression was resigned but serious. She considered pushing him, making him say what they both heard bouncing around between them.

Out of everyone, he trusted her the most.

"What changed? Why me? Last time we talked, you were ready to shove your axe down my throat."

"The Kindred," he gritting the word out. "Your work… We would not have defeated it, without your efforts."

"You wouldn't have your head, without me," Jenny clarified, because he had been a grade A ass to her and she was not as nice as she once had been.

He shot her a look, but chewed out, " _Yes._ "

"Because of that, you trust me to guard Katrina," she continued, turning her eyes toward the other woman. She had been staring at the pair the entire time, probably trying to figure out what they were saying.

Neither one of them said anything for a long moment, then Jenny remembered that she had a pot on the stove, and she was  _not_  going to let him make her spaghetti turn to mush.

"How long?"

"A week. Potentially more."

" _How_  much more?" Jenny demanded, turning back to him.

"Not long," Abraham said. The sour look on his face clearly said that his uncertainty had to do with the limitations daylight put on him.

"And you want me to just babysit her for that long?"

"That is all."

"My place isn't warded against her like yours is."

"She is wearing a charm that restricts her. Your current wards should be enough against her. Henry has said he is perfectly willing to strengthen them if necessary."

Jenny didn't bother to suppress her grimace at the mention of his name. She chewed on her cheek and ooked at Zubin for a silent conferral. He took a few steps closer to Katrina in answer.

"Fine. You  _owe_  me, though," she said, stabbing a finger at his chest. Abraham's nod was grave in its thanks. "C'mon, missy moo," Jenny said, striding toward her door and waving a hand at Katrina. "I've got dinner on the stove."

"Dinner?" Katrina asked, hurrying to follow her. Jenny wasn't sure if she imagined Katrina checking this development with Abraham, or if she was seeing snatches of it through Zubin's eyes. Either way, she knew Abraham gave Katrina a single nod, and then was moving toward Snowball. He heaved himself onto its back, and with a sharp neigh and a clatter of hoof beats, they were gone.

"So, this is my home," Jenny said briskly, waving her hand around the main room. Katrina's polite mumble dissolved when she caught sight of the tv Jenny had left on. Jenny gave a laugh, and checked on her spaghetti.

"We can eat dinner in the living room, then. You ever hear of spaghetti?"

Katrina was not what Jenny expected as a roommate. She was quiet, observant, and incredibly taken with the modern world. That, at least, Jenny had expected. Katrina had been glued to the television screen all through dinner, and her eyes practically rolled back into her head when she found out that the shower heated the water automatically. Jenny was vaguely amused by Katrina's marathon shower (partially because she wasn't paying the bill), mostly because it meant that the awkward tension was let go. Jenny's distaste at Abraham's lack of consideration mixing with Katrina's single minded attention on network tv made a sour edge to any conversation they did have, which only made Jenny feel guilty. She liked Katrina, and wanted to make the best impression upon her.

Then again, if Jenny provided her with junk food and technology, Katrina would probably love her 'til the end of days.

Which was coming closer every day.

When Katrina finally appeared from the shower, hair damp and dressed in some of Jenny's clothes, Jenny sat her down on the couch.

"Alright," she began, voice brisk and sounding eerily like Famine. "House rules."

"Okay," Katrina said, nodding.

"No running away, no trying to contact the Witnesses, no magic. Otherwise, do what you want."

"Excuse me?"

"Like, as long as you're not trying to kill yourself or something, you're free. Watch tv, cook something, read a book, go ahead. Just ask me if you want to go outside."

"And you trust me to simply be...free?" Katrina asked, making a face like the words tasted strange on her tongue. Jenny leaned back into the cushions, smiling.

"Sure. Abraham said that charm dampens your powers, and there's not exactly a lot of room for you to get into trouble," Jenny said, gesturing around the small cabin. Katrina gave a slow nod. She had absolutely zero doubt that Katrina was trying to find some sort of trap or loophole.

Jenny tried very hard to believe that it was over her not trusting a Horseman of the Apocalypse, and not because of Abraham's treatment to her.

Katrina sat very still for a long moment, weighing the possibilities for her. When she looked back at Jenny, her gaze was hard.

"What are you expecting me to do while I'm here?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want me to do magic? Use my powers against Ichabod and your sister?" Jenny considered her, not giving anything away for a long moment. Clearly, Abraham hadn't told her anything beyond the fact that she was coming to stay with Jenny.

"No. That's not why you're here. Abraham's off on a field trip for Moloch, and he can't bring you along," Jenny explained. Her voice was made of granite, despite her flippant phrasing. "We aren't going to pit you against the Witnesses."

Katrina dropped her eyes, staring at the hole in her borrowed jeans.

"We know you wouldn't do it, anyway," Jenny added, allowing her voice to melt just a little bit. Katrina glanced up, and flashed a little smile. It tore at Jenny's heart far more than she would have liked.

"Are things really that bad for them?" she asked, the words quiet, like she was terrified to find out.

"Yes."

Katrina sucked in a breath, and nodded. Her eyes were back on her knees.

"I see."

It sounded like a defeat, more than anything.

Jenny sorted out the sleeping situation shortly after. Her first pitch was to have one of them take the bed, and the other sleep on the couch, but then Katrina had hesitantly asked if they could sleep in the same room. She looked so unbiddenly hopeful that Jenny's coal of a heart was stoked, and she found herself piling up blankets and pillows on her bedroom floor ten minutes later. Which was saying something, because she really,  _really_  liked her mattress.

"Thank you," Katrina said, standing off to the side and holding a pillow, like that might justify her existence there.

"It's fine," Jenny dismissed, because she was thinking about how nice the two inch foam pad on the bed felt on her back. Katrina shuffled like she wanted to help, but Jenny pointedly refused. Her uncomfortable lingering was enough that Jenny found herself rooting around for a spare toothbrush, just to find Katrina something to do.

Of course, Katrina had looked at it, looked at Jenny, looked back at it.

"Uhm, thank you," she said, giving that polite society smile that made Jenny both want to laugh and shake her head.

"Hold on," Jenny sighed, and tromped off to find her laptop so she could find a video on how to brush teeth.

Twenty five minutes and far too much toothpaste later, both women were finally in bed. The cottage groaned around them, and Zubin nickered to Jenny as he settled for sleep as well. Jenny was closing her eyes when Katrina's voice floated through the dark.

"Jenny?"

"Yeah, Katrina?" Maybe, if she came off as terse as possible, Katrina would keep it short.

"May I ask a question?"

"Shoot," she sighed.

"Do you worry about them? Ichabod and Miss Mills, I mean."

Jenny opened her eyes, and stared at the dark ceiling.

"Yes. Yes I do." They passed through her thoughts every day, a little flicker of worry that they might get themselves killed on what was increasingly turning into a fool's errand. And every day, that concern dwindled down into an even smaller flake.

Katrina was quiet, but Jenny was certain she could hear her thoughts. Jenny wondered if her comment had offered any comfort. Worry didn't mean much when she was trying to break them in half.

"Katrina?" Jenny asked, the word sliding out of her mouth before she realized.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever think about running away? About leaving Abraham and spending more time with Ichabod?"

Katrina was quiet, the silence weighing down the air. Jenny swallowed, wondering if she was alright, hiding in the dark of Jenny's bed by herself.

"I think of going to find Ichabod every day," she said, her words an uncomfortable echo of Jenny's own thoughts. They were spoke with a care that hinted at Katrina being so, so close to breaking.

"But," Katrina continued, drawing in a shaky breath, "I know that it would be unwise to leave Abraham. He…is not unkind, in his way."

"You shouldn't have to settle for  _not unkind_  when you could have love. Not when you have so little time left," Jenny said, shocked by how  _hard_  the words felt coming out of her mouth. Katrina gave a tiny, tiny laugh. Jenny did not know if it sounded so choked because of the confirmation that the end was so close, or because Katrina's risk far outweighed the reward.

"No, I should not have to."

Katrina didn't say anything after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Jenny's tea party joke hilarious, because of Abraham and Katrina's former affiliations to England.
> 
> (Jenny finds the joke hilarious, too.)


	5. in want of humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. It's basically 'JENNY AND KATRINA SHOULD BE BESTIES' and 'THE HORSEMEN ARE SAD AND TWISTED, BUT THEY'RE VICTIMS TOO', and I have no regrets.

 

Jenny became accustomed to having another person around the small cottage. After a day, the two of them had worked out a method of falling in together to take care of the cooking and cleaning. Katrina was quiet at first, being careful to toe a line that Jenny had never set up. It was a marvel, as well as a heartache, to see just how much Katrina minded herself. She didn't make a mess, she ate all her food, she let Jenny know every time she wanted to step outside and bask in the sun. Jenny maintained the same sort of amused nonchalance as before, because there was no way she would be able to look Death in the eye and say  _'Here, have her back'_  if she let herself care.

Katrina loved taking walks around noon. The two of them would fill their pockets with clementines and muffins, and then snack as they wandered through the frosty tree trunks and fallen leaves. Jenny was careful to make sure that Katrina didn't smuggle anything in, wary of any spell she might try to attempt. Katrina didn't try anything, though. She seemed blissfully content with the freedom Jenny provided, the copious amounts of sunshine, the new, strange foods, the brightly colored clothes, the electronics. It was at times like these that Jenny could actually forget that she was a Horseman, and Katrina a witch. That she was her captor, just as Abraham was.

Once Katrina had a feel for what Jenny was truly like, though, she started to become a little bolder. She never attempted to push the limits of her freedom, but she began asking  _questions._  They were like the ones on the first night, probing and personal, but this time, not so hesitant, not so afraid. Katrina would look at her, as if Jenny were the strangest creature imaginable, as if Katrina simply could not wrap her head around the concept of giving up one's soul. Jenny, for her part, tried to be honest. But she found that the questions didn't bother her as much as before. They certainly didn't make her stomach clench, or her throat close up anymore.

"Why did you join Moloch?" Katrina asked one day, staring at her bowl of cold cereal.

Jenny raised her eyebrows, and turned to face her completely. Katrina looked up as if drawn by her gaze, but her expression was unrepentant. There was no judgment in her eyes, no betrayal, no nothing. Just the candor of her question.

Jenny stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Katrina followed her as she settled against the counter. There was a tension in her shoulders that wasn't there before.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I do," Katrina said. She didn't even hesitate. "I know why Abraham,  _and_  why Jeremy chose to give up their souls, but you…I don't understand. You don't…you are not like them."

"Uhm,  _yes,_ " Jenny said, thinking that was obvious enough to anyone who even bothered to  _look_  at the three of them. Katrina just shook her head.

"You knew about Moloch. You were fighting him from the beginning. From what I could gather…he made things very difficult for you."

"You could say that." There was no longer any personal sting to what he had done. The demons sent to torture and possess her, the institutionalization, the people that had been hurt because of her quest. She still felt the anger, still felt the pain of her solidarity, but that was toward the people who had done all of those things. To the doctors, the police, the naysayers that had called her crazy and wild and better off dead. That coal had burned very, very hot in the last few months. But for Moloch…there was just the fact. He had tested her, and she had come out the other side.

"So why…why did you join him?"

"Because it wasn't about me," she said, the words spinning off her tongue before she could think. Katrina blinked, then frowned.

"How so?"

Jenny shrugged, suddenly reluctant to share this with her. But Katrina's expression was open, sincerely wanting to know. Jenny stared around the kitchen, and gave a long, slow sigh.

"He gave me a pretty great offer," Jenny admitted. She still didn't look at Katrina. She stared out the slice of window she could see, listening to Katrina move her spoon around her bowl. They were both silent for a moment, waiting for the next thing to be said.

"Abraham was offered me," Katrina said quietly, coaxing a little more of the truth out of Jenny's lungs. "And Jeremy…he was offered another chance at life."

"Abraham was given the chance to not  _die,_ " Jenny scoffed, voice suddenly harsh as she turned toward Katrina. The other woman seemed taken aback, shocked the way her words seemed starved of compassion. "He was a man defined by his things, and then suddenly he had  _nothing._  So he chose Death. So he chose to  _be_  something."

Katrina's expression fell, and she shook her head.

"Abraham had his faults, but he wasn't…he wouldn't throw away  _everything_  he was working for just for  _that._ "

Jenny gave Katrina a long, long look.

"In this way, I think I know him a little bit better than you."

Katrina sat back, mouth slightly open as she digested Jenny's words. The denial was still scrawled across her face, but she was slowly processing it, slowly resigning herself to such a sad and pathetic truth.

"And…Jeremy? What did…was I correct in thinking he…?"

Jenny shrugged again, not feeling anything at revealing secrets that were not hers to tell.

"He wanted a father."

Katrina blinked, and then slowly leaned back in her chair. The life seemed to drain out of her chest as her gaze fell to the floor. Jenny swallowed, regretting how blunt and insensitive she had been. She wanted to say something, wanted to add something else, give her  _something_  that didn't leave her so alone and hopeless, but Jenny had made it policy to not lie about important things to her friends and she wasn't about to start now.

"Oh," Katrina murmured, trying to squeeze the words past the horror she was clearly feeling. "Oh. I…I see. I didn't not…realize the extent of his…of what he went…I did not know."

"How could you?" Jenny asked, softening just a bit. "He…isn't exactly the kind to have a heart to heart."

Katrina nodded, but her eyes were fastened on her bowl. She swallowed, looked away, and then stood up. Jenny didn't say anything as she carried the bowl to the sink, and cleared it out.

"So why did you do it?" Katrina murmured, staring out of the window. Jenny frowned, not quite understanding. Katrina turned her head toward her, expression broken and not even caring. "Why did you give up your soul? What was so important? What did you feel in those last moments?"

"I felt alone," Jenny said, meeting Katrina's eyes. "I felt alone, and cold, and scared. And then—"

Jenny swallowed, recalling the soft, seductive whisper in her head. Moloch had tried to appeal to her, the same way he had with Abraham, pointing out that she was alone in oblivion. And then—

"He came to me, and said he could save Abbie," Jenny told Katrina, voice firm. Katrina's expression changed, breaking more or softening or sinking a little farther into despair. Again, Jenny felt the touch of her compassion, felt Katrina's empathy swelling up and wrapping around her from across the room, and it felt like a warm blanket cast on her shoulders.

"You did it for her," Katrina whispered. "You wanted to prevent her from dying."

"She is mine," Jenny said, and she didn't feel the warm blanket on her shoulders, or the concern, or anything. She felt hollow. She felt starved of…she didn't really know what. She didn't care, either. "When the apocalypse comes, and it will, Abigail Mills will be under my protection."

"So that's why you fight them. 'The bigger picture', that is what you told me. This is it, this is you and her, together. That's how he got you."

"She will be safe in my domain while the rest of the world burns," Jenny confirmed. Katrina sighed and looked down at her hands, which were braced against the counter. She didn't seem to know what to say, anymore.

"You will be, too," Jenny added after a pause. Katrina glanced up at the softness in her voice. "Abraham…he may have traded his soul for life, but he still wants you, in his way. You'll be safe. You and I, and Abbie, we can…we'll still be together."

Katrina gave a brittle smile, and shook her head.

"I don't want to be together, if its cost is the rest of humanity."

* * *

"You sure you don't want to cut down on your computer time?" Jenny asked, throwing her crumpled napkin at Katrina. Katrina, in turn, shot her a look over the laptop screen.

"I am  _learning._  So many things have happened in the world, and I want to know as much as I can. Do you  _know_  what happened to the French, after they helped with our revolution?"

Jenny let out a laugh of surprise at her serious expression, and by the fact that this news was  _literally_  hundreds of years old.

"Oh, yeah,  _theirs_  didn't turn out so well."

"Unbelievable," Katrina murmured, eyes back on the screen. "You would think  _something_  would have gone right for them."

"Is that as far as you've gotten, though?" Jenny asked, clearing the last few pieces of homemade pizza from the coffee table.

"No, well, sort of. I first tried reading about all of the major events, but…things were rather confusing. I cannot guess for the  _life_  of me, why anyone would willingly ingest  _acid._ "

"Me neither," Jenny chuckled, returning to the main room. "Seriously, though. Are you going to be able to handle not having wi-fi when you go back to the catacombs? Death's going to be coming back in just a couple of days."

Katrina seemed to deflate.

"I…had not thought about that."

Jenny gave her a smile, and reached over to take the laptop away from her. Katrina sighed, but finally relinquished the computer.

She had been there for five days, now, and yet Katrina seemed like a permanent fixture in the small cottage. She was a serene presence, one that seemed to simply exist alongside Jenny. She helped fill up the silence, in a way that the Hessians and the other Horsemen and even Zubin could not do. She cut through with the sounds of her cleaning in another room, or her quiet commentary (or sometimes  _less_ than quiet commentary) on whatever article or tv show she was looking at, or her soft conversation with Zubin every day as she brushed him down. Katrina made this house feel so much more like a home.

But Abraham's promised week would be over in just a few days, and then Jenny would have to give her back. After all, she could not refuse his prize while waiting so expectantly for her own.

Katrina pulled her feet up onto the couch, expression closed off.

"What do you think he is doing?"

"I think he's on a mission for Moloch."

Katrina gave Jenny a look that she was  _not_  impressed with this answer. Jenny cracked a smile, but glanced down at her hands.

"He's retrieving the final Hellfire Shard," Jenny said. She could practically hear Katrina swallow back her dread.

"And then…?"

"And then," she agreed. Katrina nodded, and stared at her knees.

"I don't want this to end," she confessed. Katrina looked up at Jenny, eyes wide and honest and afraid. "I don't want to go back with Abraham. Not if…not when…I don't want to leave."

"Is it because of him, or because it means the end of days is just a hop away?" Jenny asked, and she made  _sure_  that her tone was gentle. Katrina shrugged, and gave a tight smile to the wall.

"Does it really matter?"

Jenny didn't answer.

They were quiet for a moment, then Katrina got to her feet.

"I…er, I'm going to make myself some tea. Would you…?"

"Yeah, sure," Jenny said, smiling and allowing Katrina this retreat. Jenny listened to her sing some Italian aria as she moved around the kitchen. What would it be like with her gone? The cottage would be once more empty, Jenny would once more be alone. Although, with the final Hellfire Shard in place, she wouldn't be forced to wait around. The final steps would come with a whirlwind and a thunderclap, and then the world would be theirs. The faithful servants of Moloch would be allowed their reward, as Jenny had said, and they would be satisfied. No longer monsters amongst men, but gods reigning above them. Powerful and honored and claiming their reward.

They would be satisfied.

Zubin shuffled out in the garage, trying to chase the melancholy from Jenny's thoughts. She smiled at his efforts, and decided that once she finished her tea, she and Katrina would take him for a long walk. Zubin pranced around the garage in excitement, making her smile.

"Here we are," Katrina said, returning to the room with a tea tray.

Jenny had flat out laughed at Katrina's reaction to her dismal tea set and accessories (which consisted of a couple mismatched mugs and what Jenny  _thought_  was a bona fide teaspoon), and had immediately demanded that she get a proper tea pot and a selection of loose leaf tea. Jenny had complied, and less than a day later, a Hessian was delivering it on their front step. Ever since, Katrina had made it a religious practice to have a pot ready at all possible times. Jenny didn't mind. It seemed to calm her, the familiarity of the motions soothing the woman into a happier time.

"What do we have today?" Jenny asked, ignoring Zubin's murmuring.

"Red rooibos," Katrina said, setting the tray down and pouring some into a mug. Katrina had first been delighted to find out about the wide variety of tea available, and then made it her mission to sample as many mixes as she could. Jenny played the good sport and tried every blend Katrina slid under her nose, but there was no doubt in Jenny's mind that every single tea leaf would be going with Katrina when it was time for her to leave.

"Mm, smells  _amazing."_

"There are  _vanilla beans_  in it," Katrina beamed, adding in sugar and cream. She handed the mug to Jenny, and then began preparing her own cup.

Jenny took a sip, relishing the warmth that ran down her throat and out to her fingertips. This she would miss. Zubin whined at her, sensing the sugar and warmth, but Jenny dismissed it, promising him an apple instead.

"I quite like the one with the lemongrass and lime in it, but this is always best on a cold day, yes?"

"Definitely. Although, someday I'm going to get you hazelnut hot chocolate, and tea's not going to have a second chance."

"I  _strongly_  doubt that," Katrina laughed, stirring the sugar into her mug. Jenny smiled at her as she took another drink.

Zubin neighed at her, loud enough to be heard inside the cottage. Katrina straightened, and glanced nervously at the window.

"It's not Abraham," Jenny promised her, even as she began to scowl.

"What is it?" Katrina asked nervously.

"I don't know," Jenny said. Zubin hadn't said anything distinct, which made her think he was still complaining about being in the cold, while she enjoyed ' _good water sugar lump_ '. She sipped her tea. There had been an edge to his voice, what had it been? Unhappy, nervous, maybe? He didn't get nervous…except for when he felt the brushes of Moloch in her head. But this was different, this was…not that, this was…

"Hm," Jenny hummed into her mug, trying to think.

"What?" Katrina repeated, hands now clasped together. Her mug of tea was completely forgotten on the tray. She still hadn't been…she was worried…because Jenny hadn't…

Jenny set the mug down on the table, tea slopping over the sides. Katrina was immediately there to keep her from falling forward, and eased her back into the chair. Her eyes were big and scared and sorry and so, so very determined.

"I had to do this," she whispered, voice swimming in the dark of Jenny's mind.

* * *

Jenny opened her eyes. Thinking was like running through cobwebs. Many, many giant cobwebs. Zubin squealed from the garage, and Jenny got the sudden, jagged impression of him stomping around, frantic and trying to wake her up.

_witch forest come back magic_

Jenny gasped and shoved herself to her feet. She staggered into the wall, fighting to remember how her voice worked.

"Katrina?" she croaked, glancing around frantically. She hadn't left, at least not permanently, Zubin had been certain of that. She had come back into the cottage, but why? Why had she returned, why had she drugged Jenny?

" _Katrina?"_

Jenny turned to glance into the kitchen, and huffed out a breath of twisted relief. There she was, crouched on the floor, plants and candles laid before her. And…blood?

Jenny jolted over to her, and jerked her upright. Katrina gasped at the rough movement, and then she was facing Jenny. Her hands were clenched onto the witch's arms, partially out of anger, partially out of relief, and partially out of her not being able to stand upright. Katrina was shocked and nervous, but something told Jenny it was very different from the way she had looked just before Jenny had fallen unconscious.

She stared into Katrina's face, trying to drag up the words to express the tumult inside of her stomach.

" _What did you do_ ," she hissed, the words ground out through her teeth. Katrina set her jaw, and tilted her head up. Jenny tightened her grip, making her flinch, and leaned forward. " _Tell me,_  Katrina!"

Katrina seemed to shrink beneath Jenny's hands, but she remained silent. Jenny whirled away from her, staggering through the vertigo, hand in her hair. She thought she had possibly interrupted the spell she was casting, but she wasn't sure, she didn't know, she didn't  _know magic._  Katrina certainly hadn't done anything monumental, hadn't set something enormous into motion, she would have felt that, Moloch would have  _made_  her feel it, so that was good, but that was not fine. Had she tried to contact the Witnesses, had she tried to stymy Death in some way? What could she do with the wards in place?

Jenny turned back to face her, and grabbed her arm again. She yanked it up to eye level, stomach sinking when she saw her wrist where Abraham's charm had been. It was a mess. It looked like Katrina had literally clawed it off of her, taking most of her skin with it. Jenny dropped her arm, and stalked across the room. She snatched up the phone, scrolling through the numbers in her head. She wasn't going to go hobble to her mirror for this, she wasn't going to stand there and be sneered at while she could not strike back.

"Whatever it was you just did, whatever  _stunt,_  oh Katrina, it was  _stupid._ Why would you—"

"I had to  _try,_ " Katrina said, voice terrified but standing so, so firm. Jenny stabbed the numbers into the phone, but her attention was grabbed by Katrina's words.

"Try  _what?_ "

Katrina faltered, then gazed down at the ground.

"I…I don't remember. I can't recall what my spell did."

Jenny stared at her for a moment, then the person on the other end of the line picked up.

"Yes?" the voice slid out, charming and deadly.

"War, come here. Katrina's done something."

* * *

Jenny did not like having Henry in her home. His very existence grated against every thought, every habit, every furnishing she had put into the place. From the moment she heard his car on the gravel, Jenny felt the smooth danger he contained. Katrina didn't seemed to be doing much better. She hissed in a breath, and curled up into an even tighter ball in her arm chair. Since Jenny had discovered her, she had refused to say anything. She just watched, watched and tried to stop the tremors in her hands.

Now Henry was there, silently inspecting Katrina. He had been gravely serious when he had walked in, but it still felt like his smile wasn't far off.

Jenny led Katrina to the bedroom when he was done. She touched the other woman on the shoulder, then closed the door.

"Did you find anything?" Jenny asked as she returned to the living room. She desperately didn't want anything to be wrong, but she found it was more for Katrina's sake, than hers.

"No," Henry said, eyes locked onto her. "I've searched for multiple kinds of spells and magicks, but nothing is registering. And she hasn't said anything?"

"No. She still has her voice, though," Jenny added. She felt ridiculous, but Henry still nodded, like that was good, pertinent information.

"My main question," he said after a delicate pause, "is how my dear mother even  _managed_  to do this."

" _Meaning?_ " Jenny growled, pushing herself up from the wall. Henry didn't move, but his condescension came out in full force.

" _Meaning_  that I have to wonder what sort of guard you were giving, if she was able to gather materials to not only knock you  _unconscious,_ but also to cast some sort of other enchantment?"

"You said you couldn't—"

"I  _can't_  find the magic itself, no! Do you have any  _idea_  as to the gravity of this situation? There is clearly evidence of magic, the candles, the notions, the characters on her back, and yet even I cannot divine even the  _least_  bit of information! This spell she has woven may possess the power to do  _anything,_  and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. And all because of your lack of vigilance. It will not be  _me_ Lord Moloch comes to discipline, of that I assure you. He will not allow his plans to be frustrated now!"

"I know that!" Jenny shouted, hands curled into fists. "Why do you think I  _called_  you? I want to see his plans fulfilled just as much as you do!"

"Oh? Then act like it!" he barked, voice snapping through each one of Jenny's bones. "You staunchly  _refuse_  to get your hands dirty, hiding out in the woods with your horse and your new witch friend, like everything will simply sort itself out naturally! You cling to this strange notion of being  _better_ than us, more human, more reasonable, but drop the veneer, Famine. You may not have noticed it, but you are changing with every passing day. The dregs of your soul have clung to you, but they are fading, and if you maintain this arrogance, ignorant attitude, then you will have  _no place_ in Lord Moloch's kingdom. You are a  _Horseman,_  you sold your soul for power and standing, no amount of  _clinging to humanity_ is going to keep you from the monster you have willingly become! This is a  _battle,_  Famine, and maybe a passive force like yourself may not recognize it, but it takes actions to  _win._ "

"Oh, get over yourself!" Jenny snapped, barely biting down the urge to throw something at him. "You act so  _high and mighty,_ like you're Moloch's favorite, like you have any  _right_  to order us about. We are the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, servants to Moloch, not War and all his lackeys! You can't just make these plans and execute them while we are barely aware of what's going to ha—"

" _They_  are the only ones that ever work! Remind me just what it is  _you_  have done. Followed orders and made mistakes, obviously the kind of person that should be spearheading all of this."

"You're  _just like us_ , War," Jenny ground out, hating him with every fragment of her wretched being. "You're a  _puppet_ , a pawn, a thing that had better work right, or you'll be  _thrown away."_

" _I_  am not the one that has allowed one of the strongest witches on the American continent to cast some sort of spell!"

" _Didn't_  you, though?! I thought your wards were supposed to  _stop_  this. If she just had to  _tear off her own skin_ to do magic, then clearly you are the one at fault! Are you so  _arrogant_  as to doubt the lengths she would go to stop this? After living and dying and existing for  _centuries,_  with a fortitude that I hadn't even thought possible, you  _truly_  think she would stop at slight bodily harm?!"

"If you had been the  _least_ bit aware of what was happening, had prevented her from  _poisoning_  you, then—"

"By doing  _what!?"_  Jenny shouted, forgoing all caution and getting right into his face. It didn't matter that there was a good few inches' disparity between them, or that he was a warlock and had been at this game for  _far_  longer than she had, Jenny had self-righteous  _wrath_  howling through her blood at every black insinuation War was slapping onto her skin. "What would _you_  have done, oh great and powerful War? What would you have done? Locked her up in the basement, kept her tied to a chair? Starved her and abused her and practiced your  _mental terrorism_  until she was barely more than a shell? Moloch doesn't need her  _broken,_ he needs her  _subservient,_  and I promise you that  _no one_  in their right minds would let you around her. You, and your pent up mommy issues and your sadism and overwhelming condescension for every living thing you come across,  _you_  think that you would have been a better candidate to guard her, keep her safe and healthy and whole until Moloch has need of her?  _Please,_  even  _you_  can't be so deluded."

"Your naivete is astonishing, even  _now,_ " he sneered, pulling back, becoming cold and lethal and quiet. "I would rather risk her mind than all of Lord Moloch's plans! You and Death, you are  _children_  running around, getting under foot. It will be an honest  _miracle_  if either of you get your reward, your beloved  _friends,_  your family, those people that will shun you for every moment of your miserable, eternal existence. You blind yourselves with pathetic hopes, and yet you—"

Jenny was not conscious of moving. She felt herself shriek, felt herself scream and whirl away.  _Passive_  force,  _immature child,_  a pathetic, blinded little girl that was  _pretending_  her devotion, to both Moloch, his cause, and her sister. Jenny could barely see, but her spear was leaping to her hand, the tip and butt already churning with energy, ready to eat away, to burn, to starve War for all eternity.

She threw it at him, the vicious power of the devil compacted into a few short yards. He jerked his hand up, and magic was there to knock it off course, but her own power was too strong, and it barely jerked to the side. He glared at her, shock and seething hate stabbing out from his eyes, but Jenny had already grabbed something, she didn't know what, something heavy and hard and enough to inflict  _so_  much damage, she was across the room and ready to strike—

It suddenly felt like she was being crushed.

Jenny would have screamed, but gasping in a breath was like inhaling cement, and her chest and head and arms and legs all  _burned_. Terror ripped through her soul, because she  _knew_  what was happening, she felt the might of Lord Moloch literally crushing her at his feet.

War was there beside her, transported just as she had been. He was cowering as well, fighting to breath, fighting to stay conscious and keep his mind and not have the very life abolished from his body.

 _CEASE, HORSEMEN OF MY APOCALYPSE,_  he said, ripping apart Jenny's mind. She screamed and cowered on the ground, trying to block the sound with her hands, trying to protect herself from the noise that was inside of her skull.  _YOU ARE MY SERVANTS, YOU ARE TO **OBEY ME**. YOU DO NOT FIGHT WITH EACH OTHER LIKE CHILDREN._

"My lord, my lord, I was simply trying to please you," War gasped, voice small and pathetic and hoping to be spared, to escape punishment. He had been here before.

_WAR, I HAVE WARNED YOU BEFORE ABOUT ACTING ON YOUR OWN. **YOU**  ARE NOT THE ONE TO DELIVER REPRIMANDS ON MY BEHALF._

Jenny panted for breath, idle hopes of raising her face from the dirt coming to mind. She was so close to pulling her brain together enough to think. Moloch's oppressive force was still bearing down on her, but not quite so hard, not enough to make her feel like every breath was going to make her vomit. His attention was solely on War, now, grinding him slowly, excruciatingly into the dust.

_YOU ARE TO FOLLOW ORDERS, AND CARRY OUT MY WILL. ANY MORE DEVIATIONS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED._

War sobbed into the dirt, agreeing, apologizing, begging for mercy. Jenny felt her stomach constrict, gagging at the sight of seeing the fearsome Horseman of War be reduced to  _this._  This was not something anyone should see.

 _AND YOU,_  Moloch boomed, swinging his wrath around to her. Jenny felt herself be flattened again, squashed into the dirt. She could see his feet as he stalked before them, but even that was too painful to look at, so she squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering and silently, hopelessly begging for release. Death, Purgatory, oblivion, anything would be better than  _this._

_YOUR NEGLIGENCE WILL NOT BE FORGIVEN AGAIN, FAMINE. FAIL ME AGAIN, AND THERE WILL BE SEVERE CONSEQUENCES._

"Yes, Master, yes, I understand, I understand," she sobbed, crying so hard that she could barely speak. "I won't do it again, I will never forget myself or your will again. I'll be  _obedient,_  please,  _please_ , forgive me!"

 _FORGIVENESS IS NOT SOMETHING FOR YOU TO ASK,_ he reproved her, and Jenny found herself mindlessly agreeing, groveling just as War had.

_BUT IT IS SOMETHING I WILL BESTOW, THIS ONCE. DO **NOT**  LET SUCH PETTY CONTENTION ARISE AGAIN. THE WITCH'S ACTIONS DO NOT MATTER, THE PLAN IS ALREADY BEING EXECUTED. DEATH HAS ALREADY ACQUIRED THE FINAL HELLFIRE SHARD AND RETURNS. IN A MOMENT'S TIME, THE APOCALYPSE WILL BEGIN, AND I WILL REIGN. GO, HORSEMEN, AND DO NOT DISPLEASE ME AGAIN._

Jenny gasped, reeling back from the floor. She was back in her cabin, she was safe, she was away from Moloch's terrible force. She glanced around, heart still shrieking in her chest, anxiety and fear still swirling about her head. Zubin was screaming outside, trampling around and on edge from the horror leeching from her mind.

War had likewise fallen to the floor, and was struggling to sit up. Jenny watched him for a moment, but did not meet his eye. She dragged herself to her feet using the back of the couch, hating how shaky her legs were.

She heard him get to his feet, slowly, pathetically, not saying a word. Jenny continued to stare straight again, mind receding back into itself as the fireplace swam before her eyes.

"I have already strengthened the wards on Katrina," he said after a long moment. "Even when she leaves this place, she will be helpless."

"Will they need to be broken?" Jenny asked the wall. There was nothing in her voice. No hostility, no worry, no exhaustion. Just nothing.

"No. They do not prevent powers from accessing her, simply from her using her magic. When Lord…when she is needed, she will be able to perform perfectly."

Jenny nodded, but didn't say anything else. She heard him quietly shuffle to the door, and then leave her house.

She took another few seconds, then shakily walked to the door as well. Zubin was prancing about the yard, clearly having had broken out of the garage when he felt Moloch steal Jenny's consciousness.

He walked up to her, nosing her hands, arms, stomach, face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, too exhausted to cry. It was like Moloch had truly obliterated a part of her, destroying all emotions in the process. Except fear. That clung to her heels even stronger than before.

Zubin didn't say anything, but the strong sense of comfort he offered helped, just a bit. It didn't make her feel quite so numb, at least.

A small sound came from the door, and then Katrina was clearing her throat.

"Jenny…" she began, clearly nervous about being around her after what she had done. "I heard you and Jeremy…and then I'm not sure what, this awful  _presence…_ "

Jenny didn't turn around, so Katrina edged a little closer.

"I did not mean to cause you grief," she whispered. She was standing at her side, now, small and penitent and sad. "I simply—I didn't think. It's just—I can't—it is very hard, caring for people on both sides. Sometimes, when I help one, when I worry about another…nothing seems to go right."

"It's okay," Jenny murmured. She could not keep the tears back when Katrina wrapped her arms around both Jenny and Zubin, and held them very, very tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY HENRY FEELS, LOOK AT THEM.


	6. usher in the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh how i have neglected this story

The next day was strained. The cottage was quiet as it recovered from Moloch's touch. Jenny couldn't find it in herself to make much more than small talk with Katrina. Part of it was because she was still reeling from her encounter with Moloch, but Jenny was still too pissed at Katrina to act like the woman _hadn't_ just screwed her over. She instead spent long hours in the garage with Zubin. Katrina, out of either consideration or guilt, left her alone. She spent her time reading, curled in on herself as she tried to forget the nightmare of her life.

When Jenny finally felt herself shake the last of Moloch's cold influence, she made herself sit in the living room with Katrina. The other woman was hesitant to be drawn into conversation at first, probably still nervous after having caused so much trouble. Slowly, though, she let herself enjoy the conversation with Jenny.

After a while Katrina's expression closed off.

"What is it?" Jenny asked.

"I simply…I was recalling some of the things Jeremy said to you," she said, forcing out a smile. She took a breath, then asked, "I…was wondering if you could explain. If you don't want to discuss it I completely understand, but I suppose there's no harm. Not much I can do if the apocalypse is only a short while away."

"Like what?"

"He called you a passive force. I mean, you _are_ a Horseman, you've been riding against the Witnesses since you were…changed. What did he mean?"

"Oh, that's just…I dunno, that's something to do with the balance of the Horsemen. It's supposed to be even between us in the ideal situation. If we played by the books, if things unrolled as Revelations and some of the apocrypha say, there'd be a balance between the Horsemen. Two men, two women, two boy horses, two girl horses, two warriors, two magic wielders, stuff like that. And then there's the different elements or natures we control over the end of days. War and Death ended up being your active ones, while Famine and Pestilence…"

"Are the passive ones," Katrina said, nodding. Her expression turned a little more downtrodden when she looked back at Jenny. "Who would have been Pestilence, though? I know Ichabod and Abbie fought off an attack when Pestilence tried to force its way through without a host, but that was more apparition than anything."

"I don't know," Jenny confessed, leaning back in her seat. "I actually don't know a lot outside of what I need to know."  
"That's right," Katrina said. The smile she gave Jenny was strained. "It all goes back to that 'big picture' idea."

"Yep. I don't need to know what happened way back when."

"But…the fourth Horseman…you need a woman and someone with magic. Does that mean…have you been…"

"It's not you," Jenny promised, finding enough compassion to squeeze some warm reassurance into the look. Katrina gave her a quick nod, but didn't seem reassured. "You'd think that you'd be perfect, but that's not the case. I don't actually know who the candidate for the last Horseman was. We've been able to take care of everything as is."

"Why the imbalance, though?" Katrina asked, trying to make her voice sound normal. "Why settle for three? Moloch…he likes having control. I would have thought he would do everything he could to dominate this war as soon as possible."

"I dunno," Jenny said, something in her uneasy at the idea of wanton conjecture toward her master's plans. "The Witnesses have kinda been messing things up for us."

And Katrina, Jenny realized. If this one woman hadn't done everything she had the war would have been over much sooner. Fate or the hand of God or dumb luck had intervened, allowing the most powerful witch in America to lend her power to the Witnesses. Maybe that was why Moloch didn't want her as a Horseman. She would be far more biddable in her assigned role.

Katrina gave a tired smile as she looked down at her hands. "Yes, they are surprisingly resilient."

"You can say that again. No matter what we do, they just can't stay down."

Reactionary, clueless, desperate things that they were, the Witnesses still managed to keep the Horsemen on their toes. That much had to be said, at the very least.

"But, like we said, won't matter for long, now. Death's heading back with the last Hellfire Shard, and then we can summon Moloch."

Katrina leaned back, expression falling. "Summon Moloch? You—you're bringing him here?"

"Yeah. How else did you expect him to conquer?"

She shook her head. She was paler than she had been earlier.

"I don't—I suppose I didn't realize," Katrina said. A hollow laugh escaped her, making her press a hand to her mouth to prevent more from coming. She looked like she might be sick.

"Jenny?" she asked after a moment, everything about her still hesitant, though determined to try. "Why…why are you answering all of my questions? Why now, why not evade them like before?"

"Well, like we said, not much you can do to stop it," Jenny said. She hoisted herself out of her chair and went into the kitchen.

Katrina was very quiet for the rest of the day.

* * *

Jenny could feel Death cantering down the drive long before he appeared. Katrina had been on edge ever since the sun had gone down, glancing at the window and turning quiet. When she felt him near the cabin, though, she dragged in a breath and closed her eyes tight.

Jenny wanted to reassure her, but everything she had seen in the last week had told her that Katrina going back was _not_ the right choice. But it was the only choice. Jenny could not condemn Abraham for doing the exact same thing she intended to do to Abbie (though she swore to herself that there would be less possessiveness and all around abuse).

She played it cool, though, letting the movie they were watching continue playing. When Zubin nickered about Death and his white steed being outside, though, she couldn't keep pretending. Jenny paused the movie.

"Come on, Katrina," she sighed. "Grab your bag."

Katrina didn't say anything as she picked up her duffle bag (Jenny had helped her pack it full of sugary contraband as well as modern clothing). She stalled in front of the door, face twisted in reluctance.

"I thought it would be easier," she whispered.

"What?"

"I thought living with him would be easier when I told Ichabod to leave me there. He was Abraham once, after all, but now…"

"Now he's not him anymore," Jenny finished.

Katrina looked at her with truly hopeless eyes. "No, he's not."

Jenny had to swallow a few times before she was able to pull the door open. The first thing they saw was Abraham and Snowball, literally larger than life as they waited on the gravel. Abraham was watching Katrina with a hunger Jenny did not like.

"Katrina," he said, striding toward her. His face broke into a wide smile, and the hunger disappeared just long enough to make him look like a normal person. Abraham touched her shoulder as though barely able to believe she was there. Katrina forced a smile but didn't say much.

He looked past her and took a few steps toward Jenny. When they were about a pace away, he gave her a formal nod. "Thank you for taking care of Katrina."

Jenny shrugged and folded her arms. "Yeah, sure. It wasn't a bother."

"War said there was an issue?"

"No," Jenny said, shaking her head. "Just a little scare. We thought she performed magic, but there was no way she could have."

Jenny gave him a thin smile. She was still unsure how Katrina had hidden whatever spell she had performed. And…well, she frankly didn't want to think about Abraham discovering the new markings all over Katrina's back, for a number of reasons.

"Anyways, services rendered. You owe me, remember that."

"Well enough," Abraham said, then turned to leave.

"Hey, hold on a sec."

He frowned at her, but he stopped.

"Please, for the love of anything. Don't make her go back into one of those damn corsets. She's going to break a rib or something."

Abraham watched her for a moment, then nodded. He didn't say anything as he strode back to his horse, catching Katrina's arm and dragging her with him as he went. Katrina strained to look at Jenny and managed to raise her hand in a feeble good-bye.

Jenny stalked back into the house before they started moving.

She went inside and tried making dinner. Her attempts at mashed potatoes ended with the mixing bowl hurled at the wall. She shouldn't have given Katrina back. Abraham dictated everything Katrina did and then lashed out when she tried to assert her own independence. Jenny shouldn't have given her back.

She abandoned dinner and turned on the shower. Jenny stripped down and stepped into the spray, weakly hoping that the hot water would make her feel better. It didn't. Jenny grabbed a bar of soap she had been neglecting since she bought herself a new bottle. She scrubbed it over her skin and through her hair, scraping her fingernails across and then sending them over her body like maybe she could scour the bad decision away.

She kept replaying the scene, turning over Abraham's hunger, Katrina's reluctance, and her own selfishness in her mind. She should not have left Katrina go. She should have protested, made Abraham promise to treat her better. She should have insisted that he tell Katrina what awaited her in less than two days' time. She should have asked why the hell he was alright locking her away from the world, from sunlight itself.

She probably should have hugged Katrina good-bye.

Jenny stood under the spray for a few long moments, chest heaving. She felt confused. Her hands were shaking and her mind kept running over the image of Katrina looking at her over her shoulder, but…Jenny was empty inside. Her head knew it was wrong and her body knew it was wrong, but she didn't feel the sting of nausea or anger or disgust that should have accompanied it.

She turned off the water and dried herself. Zubin was quiet as she slipped into her pajamas and flopped onto the bed.

It should have felt good to be sleeping there for the first time in over a week, but all Jenny could think of was Katrina, whispering secrets to her in the dark.

The next morning Jenny still felt hollow, starved into apathy for lack of answers. She skipped breakfast and took Zubin out to one of his favorite clearings. The hours drizzled away as she stroked his side and watched him eat grass. When night approached, she led him back to the garage and put on his tack. Then Famine mounted her horse and rode into the darkening forest.

* * *

It was Famine's job to lure out the Witnesses. With all of the Hellfire Shards collected, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse were able to start the final leg of their plan. All of the Horsemen were certain that the Witnesses had used the week long break as an attempt to rally themselves, but it was futile.

Sleepy Hollow would be the sacred ground of Lord Moloch's rebirth, and all of the souls residing in it were fodder for his might.

Their actions had becoming increasingly bold as they neared success, but none of the Horsemen had been brazen enough to blatantly ride through the streets of Sleepy Hollow. Famine now did, wielding her staff and carving a vicious swathe of starvation in her wake. People initially thought the lunatic on the black horse was dangerous and could not control herself as the staff snaked out to hit passersby. They didn't realize until several hours later that people had begun withering on the spot after they had been hit.

The police force, now so perilously thin, tried containing the mass panic as the citizens were pushed to their limit. People tried to escape the cursed town, but found the roadways blocked, the small airport in ruins, the docks barricaded, and the forest unyielding. They were trapped.

The Witnesses assembled their small reserve of weapons and allies and took to the streets. Since Famine was the only Horseman making herself known, they targeted her. Famine allowed herself to be chased into a corner, apparently desperate after having overreached herself in a fight. She scanned the faces before her as they crowded her into an abandoned warehouse; Ichabod, Abbie, Irving, Hawley, and a few strangers she didn't recognize. Nice to see they had replaced her so quickly.

Zubin screamed and charged at them as she rolled out of his saddle. People scattered as he lashed out, forgetting Famine in the horse's fury. She tackled a man that got too close, yanking the gun out of his hands and stomping on his chest to keep him down.

She fired off two shots, sending Hawley to his knees as he clutched his leg. Two witches were frantically trying to cast a spell on her, but another shot sent one of them to the ground.

Then the doors of the warehouse were blasted aside as War's avatar thundered in. The horse raged through them as the empty suit of armor slashed out flaming death. The warehouse heaved as chaos erupted everywhere, witches hissing out spells, War cutting off limbs, Zubin trampling a man beneath his hooves, Jenny stealing back her staff and condemning a woman to a short, hollow death as starvation was sealed into her skin. They moved with the perfect harmony that came with obeying a higher will.

Famine spun, ready to deal another attack when Jenny found herself face to face with Abbie. Her sister was grimacing in pain, holding onto a gash that had been cut into her arm by War. What stopped Jenny cold was the hate in her eyes, not pain. She hated her sister for what she had become.

" _You,_ " Abbie snarled, baring her teeth even now. "You of all people let this happen. You _gave_ yourself to him, after everything he's done to you!"

"It wasn't for me," Jenny said, and then Famine wrested control and slammed a stone charm into her forehead.

Abbie collapsed the moment the stone made contact, but Jenny was there to catch her. War had similarly incapacitated Ichabod and was heaving him onto his steed. Famine didn't bother to acknowledge the empty shell, merely called Zubin over so she could wrestle Abbie onto his back.

Then rode out of the warehouse, ignoring the survivors. She kept a firm hand over the cut on Abbie's arm, trying to stem the bleeding as much as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have maybe three chapters left? We'll see.


End file.
